Operation: Challenge
by PB7
Summary: As a writer in need of a challenge, I looked one up online. I will be working on one hundred prompts from a list not created by myself, which will be published over the course of the following few months. Please read the constraints I've set for myself in the first chapter. And please review!
1. Prompt 1: Introduction 01-18-15

**Note:** So, I was in the mood for a writing challenge, so I looked some up on Google, and settled on this one. Each chapter represents a different theme, which will be the chapter's title. Here are the rules:

**Pick a fandom: **_Penguins of Madagascar_

**Write a one-shot for each of the themes**

**None of the chapters can be continuations of other chapters**

**Try to be original, and no copypasta!**

**The one-shots do not have to be posted in the list's order.**

Here are some rules I've added for myself:

**I cannot work on more than one at a time. I can jot down ideas for other prompts, but the actual writing of the fics cannot begin until I've finished the previous one.**

**Each one-shot must be at least one hundred words but no more than one thousand. Hyphenated words count as one.**

**Interpretation of the theme may be literal or metaphorical.**

**Ideas must be my own. Inspiration can come from something I heard, a song, a book, movie, et cetera, but ideas themselves cannot be suggested by anyone but my own mind.**

**They can be different realities, such as an alternate reality or humanized reality. If the chapter is anything but the original reality fans are used to, it should be indicated at the beginning of the chapter in a note. Furthermore, they can be in the past, present, or future, which should also be indicated in an author's note.**

**They can be any genre, but none may contain any mature content.**

**If any contain pairings, it shall be indicated in a note at the beginning of the chapter.**

**No more than one can be written in a day.**

**They can be in any point of view.**

**Characters must be in character unless given specific reason for the change (i.e. character went through a terrible ordeal, character has to live with death, etc.).**

And so, my challenge begins. Dates written next to the titles indicate the date the one-shot was written. I already have three completed, which will be posted every four days. After those, it will depend on when I get to writing them to have them published.

_Introduction 01.18.15_

"Skipper," Kowalski called from the television.

Skipper came to his side and looked to the camera feeds. "What is it, soldier?"

"Looks like we're getting a new resident in our habitat," Kowalski said.

On the screen, Alice accepted a crate from the delivery truck and signed the paperwork.

"Why did we not figure this out before?" Skipper asked sternly.

"It's a last-minute transfer from the Chester Zoo in England. Commissioner McSlade attended a meeting in New York City with park coordinators around the world on ways to promote cleaner, more eco-friendly environments.

"Upon its closing, a representative from England announced that one of his employees found a penguin lost in Cheshire and saved him. They don't have any room for him at Chester Zoo, so he offered to sell it to one of the representatives. McSlade was the highest bidder. Even Alice didn't know about it until about an hour ago," Kowalski explained.

They watched as Alice picked up the crate and started heading toward their habitat.

"We'll arrange a transfer later. Let's get topside before Alice gets here," Skipper said.

They and Rico went topside and a moment later, Alice set the plank across the pool, bringing the crate across it.

"Here you go, your new habitat-mate," she said bitterly, pulling a small penguin from the crate and setting him down in front of them. They stared at the chick in surprise.

Alice grabbed the crate and left as the small penguin fiddled with his flippers shyly.

"H-Hello," he said in a soft British accent. "Wh-Who are you? Where am I?"

The penguins exchanged a glance. This little penguin couldn't be more than a few years old.

"Uh, we're—um," Skipper started, looking to Kowalski and Rico.

"I'm—Kowalski," Kowalski started. "You're in Manhattan."

The chick hesitantly turned away and looked over the tall buildings in the distance. Then he turned back to the penguins.

"What's going to happen to me here?" he asked, nervously glancing between the three of them.

Skipper slowly stepped up to the frightened hatchling and knelt down so he could meet eye level.

"Do you know where you're from? We could help you find your parents," he said tenderly.

The young chick winced and looked down, as if someone had stuck him with a needle. "I don't have parents," he said softly. "I have an Uncle Nigel, but he isn't around much. He tried to put me in a zoo. He said I'd be safe there. I ran away because I was afraid. Someone found me and took me here."

Skipper looked at Kowalski and Rico. Then he looked back to the chick with a sigh.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked.

"My Uncle Nigel always called me Private," the little penguin answered.

Skipper smiled warmly. "Okay, Private. How about you come down into HQ with us and we'll figure something out for you," he suggested.

Private furrowed his brow. "What's an 'HQ'?" he asked.

Skipper held out his flipper. "Come with me and I'll show you," he said making eye contact, willing him to trust him.

Private stared at his flipper for a moment. Then he looked into his reassuring eyes and hesitantly took his flipper. Skipper gently closed his flipper around his.

"I'm Skipper, by the way," he said leading him to the hatch.

"An' I Rico!" Rico said appearing on the other side of him with a smile. Private recoiled in surprise.

Skipper pushed the fish bowl aside and stepped down onto the first rung, scooping Private into one flipper before descending. Kowalski and Rico dropped in behind him.

"This is our HQ," Skipper said as he set Private down.

Private looked around. There were three bunks carved into one wall, a table in the center made from a "Do Not Feed the Animals" sign and cinder blocks, a television in the far corner, a small fridge in another, and a door in the center of one wall that led to who-knows-what.

"Why don't you let Rico show you how the TV works and Kowalski and I will have a little talk?" Skipper said.

Private looked from Skipper to Rico, who grinned and scooped him up.

"Whoa!" Private cried. "O-Okay! Oomph!" he said as Rico trotted across the room and planted him in front of the television.

Skipper and Kowalski exchanged a humorous glance and went into the lab.

"What should we do, Kowalski? It's too dangerous to keep him here," Skipper asked his lieutenant.

"We could transfer him to another zoo," Kowalski suggested, "but what about his Uncle Nigel? He said he ran away. His Uncle must be worried out of his mind."

Skipper sighed and thought for a moment. "Do you think you can track down his Uncle? Maybe he'll come get him."

"I could try, but it won't be easy. It could take me a number of weeks," Kowalski said.

"But you think you can do it?" Skipper urged. "It's not safe for him here. He's too young."

"I agree. Yes, I think I can. What do we do in the meantime?" Kowalski asked.

"We have to keep him safe. We'll transfer him to the Bronx Zoo until we can find his Uncle. When we find him, we'll tell him that he's there, safe and sound," Skipper said with a nod, feeling as if this was for the best.

"All right. I'll get started on the paperwork and you tell Private what we've decided," Kowalski said. He opened the lab door and they froze at the threshold as they took in the scene.

Rico was running around HQ with Private on his shoulders, who was squealing in delight. Rico did little twirls and sometimes pulled him down from his shoulders and tossed him in the air only to catch him and throw him on his shoulders again. Skipper and Kowalski smiled at the sight.

"Actually, Kowalski," Skipper said as he watched them, "when you find his Uncle, tell him he's safe and sound right where he is."


	2. Prompt 2: Love 01-19-15

_Love 01.19.15_

There is a price to pay when it comes to "love."

If anyone knows that, it's me. No one truly knows how hard my job is. They think I make it look so easy. That's because I have to bury my emotions to make the hard decisions. I have to feel nothing. I can't cry, I can't feel pain, and I most definitely can not let my anger alter my judgement.

Today, I lost two good soldiers. Manfredi and Johnson, my brothers in arms. And I hold myself accountable.

What many people don't realize is that war is a duty. The only real choice is whether you accept it, and what you fight for. Sometimes you have to make an impossible choice for the greater good. Even if that means someone you care about gets caught in the crossfire.

That's the problem with my job as leader. Everyone looks to me to make these choices. But I made a commitment when I took this job—a commitment to protect the innocents of the world. And because of that commitment, I have paid the ultimate price.

They were supposed to disarm a bomb that was set to detonate in Brooklyn, which was strong enough to take out about ten thousand people—innocent lives that didn't have a clue. But when they found it, they discovered it was on a vacuum lock. It would be extremely difficult to disarm. And it was counting down from seventeen minutes.

My demolitions expert, Rico, would've been able to disarm it in thirty seconds flat. But Manfredi and Johnson would've had to get to him first. My choice was this: Risk their taking the bomb to Rico and not make it, killing thousands anyway, or have Rico try to talk them through disarming it while taking it to the Hudson River, where if it happened to detonate, no one would be killed.

Except for them.

As much as I didn't want to, Manfredi and Johnson convinced me that the latter was for the best. They told me everything would be okay, and I let myself believe that. Deep down, I knew something would go wrong, but I couldn't let the lives of thousands pay the price for my selfishness. I told them to take the bomb to the Hudson River, and Rico and I would try to meet them there. Rico talked Manfredi through how to disarm it while both of us headed to the Gowanus Bay from opposite sides of the city.

But then Manfredi hit a problem. There was no way he could try to disarm the bomb with Johnson driving so fast, swerving around pedestrians and street corners. It would risk the possibility of releasing the vacuum lock and detonating the bomb. They had to get to the Hudson River and hope we beat them there.

We didn't.

They made it to the bay before we did by about a minute. But there was no time to wait. The timer was down to fifty-eight seconds. They hijacked a motorboat and road out to the middle of the river at top speed. Rico and I skidded to a halt at the bay just as the bomb detonated, sending water, smoke, and boat pieces up into the air. The shockwave probably caused a few injuries and knocked out some frequencies, but they had saved everyone.

We scoured the river for days, trying to find their bodies or anything that would indicate if they were truly dead. We couldn't find anything. They were just gone—the two bravest penguins I'd ever known.

The cruel irony? If I had told them to come straight through Prospect Park and meet us at Park Slope, we would've met them in time, and no lives would've been lost. But I made the harder decision for fear that something would go wrong.

I chose the people of Brooklyn over my own men—my own brothers.

So, how do I live with it? Here's the thing: Life is precious because it ends. You do the easy thing, the _appealing_ thing, and it usually goes wrong. But if you take the hard path, that is where you'll find reward. Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something. You will never truly understand pain until you've sacrificed something that means everything to you. But you'll also never truly understand love until you have lost.

Love. No matter what form we're talking, whether romantic or brotherly, puppy love or utter infatuation, we have to ask ourselves what it's really all about. If you think love means something you would give the world for, or you think it means happiness for the rest of your life, then you're in for quite a ride.

Love is knowing what's best for yourself, what's best for that person, and what's best for everyone around you. Love is not something you can understand without first experiencing hurt. No, I don't mean your boyfriend left you for someone else or your best friend ever moved five thousand miles away. I mean that someone you've loved for years, someone you knew better than they knew themselves, someone you couldn't go a day without seeing, is someone you'll never see again. Ever.

If I would've risked bringing Manfredi and Johnson straight to me, and something went wrong and the bomb detonated anyway, no one would've won. They would've died for nothing, along with thousands of innocent people. But they died honorably, saving those lives, and they will forever be remembered for that.

Especially by me. Rest in peace, Manfredi and Johnson. Lord knows all those you have saved are.


	3. Prompt 3: Light 01-23-15

_Light 01.23.15_

Marlene laid against the dark, damp soil, nearly losing consciousness. The air was growing heavy, and her breathing was becoming labored. She'd been underground for almost an hour now, and was running out of oxygen. In the pitch black, she'd never felt more alone.

She and Private had left the zoo for snowcones. But when they got close, a human spotted them and they had to hide in a panic haste. Private sought refuge in a trashcan while Marlene dove into an abandoned fox hole. But the next thing she knew, the human ran across it in search of her and the vibration caused the loose soil to collapse, closing off the entrance, but thankfully not covering her completely.

When she tried to dig her way out, it started to collapse again, so she had to stop. She knew Private would come to her aid, or rush to find help. It'd been so long, she'd decided that either Private had no idea where she was or what had happened to her, or had realized that digging her out could possibly cause it to collapse before they could get to her and had to think of something else.

While she was down there, she had a lot of time to just think. What else was there to do? She discovered that there were a lot of things that were left unanswered.

What was Skipper like before he became the leader of his quadrant of penguins? She knew he had a mysterious and "classified" past, but she wondered if he only said that because he didn't want to talk about it. Surely, not every detail of his life was classified. Did he ever love anyone? Why did he decide he wanted to be a militant leader?

Why did Mort have a fetish over Julien's feet? Mort had been that way since she'd met him, and while she thought it strange, she never really thought about why he had that obsession to begin with. However, she couldn't even begin to guess what that story was.

Why is Alice always such a grouch? If she hates her job so much, what's to stop her from quitting and finding something else to do? Marlene wondered if there were something that would make her happier. Perhaps a soulmate?

How did Rico obtain the ability to swallow almost anything and regurgitate it on command? She imagined it must've taken a lot of practice. But even with practice, how does one fit so much into such a tiny body?

Now that she was beginning to run low on oxygen, her thinking started to become hazy. Anything that she tried to think lost clarity and she became confused. Her head started to feel as if it were underwater.

Just past the haze of her thinking, she thought she heard a sound, followed by feeling dirt land on her stomach. If she hadn't become so disoriented, she may have panicked for fear that the hole was about to cave in. She cringed as light slowly started to pierce her vision from the side.

"_I found her! She's here!" _she heard a voice say. She couldn't tell who it was, but she knew it sounded familiar.

Someone grabbed her around the shoulders and waist and gently started carrying her through an opening from the side of the foxhole. They moved about five or six feet before sunlight flooded into view, along with figures that Marlene couldn't make out until her vision cleared. She was laid on the soft grass and she moaned.

"_Marlene? Marlene can you hear me?"_ she heard that same voice say. Four figures towered over her and they slowly came into view. It was the penguins. Skipper and Kowalski were wearing headlamps.

"Skipper?" she rasped. All that time in thinning oxygen made it feel as if someone had placed a box on her chest that was three times her weight.

"Yes, it's me, Marlene," Skipper responded. "You're going to be okay. We're taking you to HQ." He looked at Rico. "Give us a skateboard, Rico."

She heard Rico regurgitate what she assumed was Skipper's desired item. The penguins lifted her and placed her on the skateboard. Kowalski, Rico, and Private started pushing the skateboard as Skipper sat next to her, pulling her head up to his chest and holding her.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner, Marlene. Kowalski was afraid we'd make the hole collapse on you if we dug straight down, so we had to come in from the side. That made it harder to find you because the foxhole was so small. I promise you you'll be okay," he told her.

Marlene's mind slowly rose back to awareness as she took in more oxygen and she smiled up at him.

"It's okay, Skipper. I knew you guys would save me," she said. "I do have a question."

"Um, okay," Skipper replied, wondering what she could be wanting to ask at a time like this. "What is it?"

"Do you think Alice might find love one day?" she asked.

Skipper blinked a couple of times and looked at his men in alarm. "Doubletime, men! Marlene's lost more oxygen than we thought!"


	4. Prompt 4: Insanity 02-02-15

_Insanity 02.02.15_

**Warning: This chapter is rated T for some disturbing images. If you want to ask me what to expect in a PM, feel free to do so.**

— § —

"Boss," called a lobster minion as he approached the villainous dolphin, Dr. Blowhole. "Boss, we're—ready when you are," he said uneasily.

Dr. Blowhole grinned coldly and turned to him with a burning eye. "Excellent, Red One. Prepare the operating table," he purred.

The lobster swallowed and nodded, exiting without another word.

Blowhole looked back into the mirror, looking at the bandages around his right eye, his grin fading back into pure malice. It was _he_ who had done this to him . . . that _penguin_ that goes by . . .

. . . _Skipper_.

He was embarking on his first attempt at striking revenge against the dullard humans. Then _they_ showed up. Skipper and his team: Kowalski, Rico, and Private. He had laughed when he first met them. Four cute and cuddly penguins coming to foil his plan? It was ridiculous!

Only there was nothing cute nor cuddly about them.

They fought through his army of lobsters, shut down his entire operation, and had taken his eye out in the process. He had pinned down that damned penguin, Skipper, and had come close to killing him off, when he grabbed a nearby pipe and sliced his eye. It had cut so deep that it had actually . . .

Well, let's just say jelly was involved, and not the type you put on toast.

He was going to make those penguins pay. He was going to show them what happens when you mess with Dr. Blowhole. They thought they knew anger? They thought they knew evil? Well, their world was about to get a whole lot darker. They had seen _nothing_ yet.

He wheeled himself into the operating room, where a few lobsters stood by to operate a machine that would secure his latest creation onto his useless eye. He used his flippers to push himself up onto the operating table and laid back.

"Um, Boss, are you sure you don't want the anesthetic?" one of the lobsters asked.

Blowhole stared back into the mirror at the foot end of the machine so he could watch everything that was happening.

"No," he answered coldly, "I want to see and _feel_ everything. I don't want to miss a single sensation," he said grinning like a madman—probably because he was one.

The lobsters exchanged a nervous glance as Blowhole started undoing the bandages to reveal his sunken eyelid over the empty socket, dried blood surrounding it, and a scratch that cut diagonally across it. The lobsters kept themselves composed.

"Do it," Blowhole said relaxing his body.

Taking a breath, two lobsters approached the table and started strapping him down: once at his tail, once at his waist, once at his chest, twice on each flipper, and once at his shoulders. One of the lobsters put a stick horizontally in his mouth as the other gently wiped away the dried blood with a damp rag. After stepping away, a lobster at the controls announced to stand clear and hit a button.

The machine whirred to life and the operating table raised to where it was nearly vertical. A set of metal claws lowered themselves toward Blowhole's face holding a thin device shaped in a near complete circle. It brought the piece over his head and adjusted it so the little hole at one end fit just over the eye socket.

Then a smaller metal claw moved forward and Blowhole used his anger and hatred for those infernal penguins to brace himself. The small black piece the claw was holding had a few wires sticking out of it, which another set of claws about the size of sewing needles prepared to grab.

Once it was mere millimeters from his eye, the small claws grabbed the wires and pulled them inside Blowhole's socket, connecting them to his optic nerve. Blowhole bit down hard on the stick and growled in pain. His entire body tensed as he growled louder and deeper, causing the lobsters to back up in fear.

Once it had finished connecting one set of wires to his optic nerve, the small claws connected another set to the headpiece. Finally, the claw holding the black piece snapped it into the headpiece and the claws retracted, the table laid back to its original horizontal position, and the machine silenced.

Blowhole let out another series of growls as his "eye" throbbed with pain. Once he started to calm down, the lobsters cautiously approached and undid his straps. Blowhole sat up, holding the eyepiece in pain. After it started to die down, he pulled the stick out of his mouth and gave it to one of the lobsters.

"Um," one of the lobsters said, finally working up the courage to speak after the horrifying display he'd just seen, "Boss, h-how are you feeling?"

Blowhole opened his good eye and slowly grinned. "I feel _amazing_," he purred. The lobsters exchanged a glance. Blowhole looked into the mirror. "Now let's see how this baby does."

He hit a button on the eyepiece and it started to burn red in the center. Slowly, he was able to see through that "eye," even though everything was colored red. He started to chuckle maliciously with wild eyes and the lobsters gulped.

"Excellent work, Red Ones. Now we plan _revenge_."


	5. Prompt 5: Sacrifice 02-09-15

_Sacrifice 02.09.15_

**Note:** This chapter is humanized. It also contains character death.

— § —

Kowalski took a shaky breath and stood before the guests seated in rows of fold-up chairs. Suppressed sobs punctured the silence.

"I'll be honest. When I was first told that Skipper had been killed, I nearly laughed," he said. The guests' expressions twisted in a mixture of shock and confusion.

"Not because it was funny, but because I'd always imagined Skipper would intimidate Death himself," he explained, almost smiling. The guests relaxed and exchanged glances as they realized how right Kowalski was. "Even now, I almost expect Skipper to pop out of his coffin and leave us wondering how he did it.

"When I first met Skipper, I thought he was insane," Kowalski continued. "The amount of effort he put into his elaborate plans to thwart evil was extraordinary. Sometime down the line, I realized . . . I was wrong. While his mind may have seemed twisted from the outside, he knew exactly how to navigate the inside. And he always came out on top. I'd always thought the key to understanding anyone's mind would take years of neurological research, but in recent years of knowing Skipper, I've discovered I was wrong about that, too.

"It doesn't take logic or any sort of scientific studies to understand the mind. All you have to do is stop thinking and pay attention. There was one thing that always kept Skipper going: love. Love for his brothers in arms, his friends, the people of New York, his country, and the world. He was always willing to give his life for this love. I guess he's finally paid the ultimate sacrifice.

"You all knew Skipper as the strong, brave, hard-hearted leader. You knew him as a patriot, protector, and friend. But I knew him as a brother. He seemed strong and brave on the outside, but inside, he was petrified. Just stepping out of your apartment each morning was a risk. Anything could happen to any of us at any given moment, and there would've been nothing Skipper or anyone else could've done to stop it. That's what was always on Skipper's mind, and why he was always so paranoid. It's why he gave his life for all of us.

"When we went into this mission, Skipper told me that there was an envelope in his top dresser drawer. I asked him what was in it and why he wanted me to know about it. He replied, 'You'll know.' It wasn't until I received the message that he'd been killed did I realize what he meant. He'd known he was going to die, yet he went through with the mission anyway to protect us all. This morning, I found that envelope, and I would like to read it to you."

Kowalski pulled out a piece of paper from his inside breast pocket.

"Dear friends," he began. "If you're reading this, then I'm dead. But I want you to know that that's okay." He choked a little and cleared his throat. "I assure you all that I'm in a better place now. I've never really been one hundred percent sure what happens in the afterlife—well, no one does—but if I am looking down on you all right now, I don't want to see tears. If I do, I want you all to know that I'm slapping all of you and you just don't know it." Everyone laughed a little. The image of Skipper's ghost slapping all of them was too believable. Kowalski continued.

"Don't think of my death as losing a friend. Think of it as a lasting comfort knowing that you're all safe, and can live on to tell my story. I knew a long time ago that I would die protecting those I care about. However I died, I promise you I did so peacefully, knowing that my sacrifice would keep you all safe." Kowalski swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back tears. "I don't want to see sad faces at my funeral. I want to see smiles because we had a great run together. Happy times, sad times, crazy times, you name it—and I am so honored to have known you all. Yes, even you, Julien."

Julien, who was in the front row, sobbed into Maurice's shoulder, who patted his back.

"If all else fails, remember this: even though I'm not physically there anymore, I'll always be with you all, in your hearts and memories. No one can ever take that from you. I love you all, and I hope to see you again in the very distant future. Signed, Skipper."

Kowalski tucked the letter back into his breast pocket. There was a silence that fell over the guests as they tried to contain their sorrows.

"Skipper's death was not in vain. We will always remember him for his greatest sacrifice above all else."

Kowalski returned to Rico and Private's side as the honor guard pulled the American flag from Skipper's coffin and held it tautly as a seven man firing squad fired three volleys upon another officer's command. A bugler sounded _Taps_. Once they finished, the honor guard ceremonially folded the flag into a tight triangle. Then the honor guard briskly marched to Kowalski and handed him the flag.

"This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service," he said. Then he raised his right hand in salute before turning and marching back to his place.

Kowalski held the flag to his chest with one arm as he, Rico, and Private each knelt down and picked up a handful of soil and held it over Skipper's coffin. Slowly, they let the soil fall.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," they all said simultaneously.

They then watched as Skipper's coffin slowly receded into the ground. They raised a right hand in salute as they watched the bravest man they'd ever known return to earth in his final resting place.

— § —

**Note:** _Taps_ is a traditional song played at military funerals. You can find a sample of it on YouTube if you would like to listen to it.

Also, I had originally exceeded my one thousand word limit with this installment, and as I was condensing it, I realized how unneeded the word "that" is in many situations.


	6. Prompt 6: Dream 02-13-15

_Dream 02.13.15_

**Note:** Well, anyone who knows me had to know I was going to do a Skilene one eventually. Happy Valentine's!

— § —

Unable to sleep, Skipper pulled himself topside for some fresh air. He had that nightmare again, the same one he'd been having every night for a week. He hadn't told anyone about it yet—partly because it was really disturbing him, and partly because he didn't want anybody worrying about him.

He ran his flippers over his face and knelt by the pool to look at his reflection. He could tell that he was tired with the circles around his eyes. The team had seemed concerned about him the past couple days, but they didn't say anything. Then again, they were probably waiting for a good time to ask. He'd been a little ill with them due to so little sleep.

A figure appeared next to him in the reflection and he turned around and tackled them to the ground without seeing who it was.

"Hey!" Marlene coughed as Skipper pinned her by the throat. "Calm down! It's just me!"

Skipper's eyes widened in surprise and he helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry, Marlene, but you know you shouldn't sneak up on me like that," he said.

"Duly noted," Marlene mumbled rubbing her head. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Skipper said without meeting her eye. "What about you?"

Marlene took a breath. "I couldn't sleep either. I also had this weird dream," she said.

Skipper arched an eyebrow. "Really?" he said. "What about?"

Marlene hesitated and looked down.

"You can tell me anything, Marlene," Skipper said assuringly.

Marlene sighed and sat down at the edge of the island. Skipper sat next to her.

"I'm standing in Central Park, at night, and there's this little girl standing a few feet away holding a teddy bear. She turns to look at me and she smiles this . . . _weird_ creepy smile," she said with her face contorting in confusion and disturbance. "Then she starts chasing me and I make a break for this tree, but the faster I run, the further away it seemed. Then she caught me, and that's when I woke up."

Skipper looked at her empathetically. "I know how you feel," he said without thinking.

Marlene looked at him. "What do you mean? Have you been having weird dreams, too?" she asked.

Skipper broke eye contact and looked at the water. Marlene scooted closer to him.

"You know you can tell me anything, too, right?" she said softly.

Skipper hesitantly looked at her. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. "I've, um," he started slowly, "been having his recurring nightmare for about a week and I just can't shake it. I'm afraid it might be too—_intense_ for you," he said looking away again.

Marlene knit her brows in concern. "That bad?" she asked softly.

Skipper turned his head back to her with serious eyes and nodded slowly. Marlene looked down at his flipper and gently took it in her paw.

"When I said you could tell me anything, I meant it," Marlene said earnestly. Skipper looked down at her paw and then into her eyes. She squeezed his flipper a little firmer. "Don't let this consume you. Tell me," she insisted.

Skipper sighed deeply and looked away. "Fine," he said, giving in. "At first, I'm in an upper floor of some building. It's dark. I start walking toward this closed door with a light shining under it. Just before I open it, it bursts open with huge flames engulfing the area around me. I can't find an opening to get out. Then I see my team on the other side of the flames, also trapped. I keep screaming to them, trying to get to them, but I can't. Then the flames reach them . . . and that's when I wake up." He hadn't realized he'd tightened his grip on Marlene's paw as he explained his dream.

"Wow," Marlene said after a few moments of silence had passed. "That's awful. You know it's just a dream?"

"Of course I do," Skipper replied, "but it still bothers me. I keep having the same dream and I don't know why. I'm not afraid of flames. And why would my mind want to imagine my team die over and over again?"

Marlene thought for a moment. "Maybe it has nothing to do with the flames, or your team dying," she suggested.

Skipper arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's about your fear of losing control, that something will happen and you won't be able to do anything about it."

Skipper looked at her and considered. "That—actually makes sense."

Marlene narrowed her eyes. "Not sure if I should be offended by that or not," she said with a smile.

Skipper smiled back. "You shouldn't. You're the smartest mammal I know, Marlene." For a moment, they maintained eye contact, but broke away as the intensity grew. "I still don't know how I can go to sleep if I have that dream again."

"Well, sure you do," Marlene replied. "If you have the dream again, just stop thinking and control it. Extinguish the fire and stop being afraid."

Skipper looked at her again. Then he smiled. "I think I will. Thanks, Marlene."

Marlene smiled back. "No problem."

Skipper frowned. "What about your dream?"

Marlene shrugged. "Ah, it's nothing. It's probably just something to do with my phobia of humans picking me up," she answered with a laugh.

Skipper looked down at her paw gripping his flipper and vice-versa. Then he looked back into her eyes. "Why don't you stay with me for tonight?" he suggested softly.

Marlene looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," Skipper answered, "we could be here for each other if we have a bad dream again."

Marlene smiled. "Okay," she agreed.

Skipper scooted closer and wrapped his flipper around Marlene's waist and she rested her head on his chest, and he, her head.

"Good night, Skipper," Marlene said.

"Good night, Marlene," Skipper replied.

The two closed their eyes and didn't wake up until morning, their nightmares defeated.


	7. Prompt 7: Words 02-23-15

_Words 02.23.15_

**Note:** My teacher gave us another creative writing assignment! This is what I'm submitting to her. The topic is a story that conveys two of the following themes: appearance versus reality, betrayal, manipulation/deception, jealousy, and hate. I chose pretty much all of them except jealousy. It's also humanized.

— § ―

Thomas laid back on a cot with his arm crossed over his eyes. The sounds of arguing Danes in the neighboring cells and guards beating at their cell bars with their batons to try and quiet them filled the stale air.

He lay in silence, thinking to himself how stupid he had been. How gullible and vulnerable he had been. He gave his loyalty and his trust only to be betrayed in return—by the one person he thought was his brother. Now he was sitting on death row as an innocent man.

"Morning, Thomas."

Thomas looked up from his bunk to see the traitor on the other side of his cell door.

"Hans? What are you doing here?" he hissed as he sat himself up.

"I wanted to come see you before this evening," Hans replied with a calm smile, his thumbs tucked in his pockets.

Thomas scowled and stood up. "After _everything_ we've been through together—everything I've _sacrificed_ for you—and you stab me in the back," he growled as he approached the bars.

Hans pressed his lips together. "That's correct," he said nonchalantly, as if it meant nothing to him.

Thomas scoffed. "Why? What did I ever do to you?"

Hans frowned and leaned closer. "To me? Nothing. You talk about betrayal. Why don't you tell me a little more about your affiliation with the CIA?" he asked gripping the bars.

Thomas knit his eyebrows. "CIA? What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that," Hans spat. "I heard the conversation you had with that man last week."

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "If you're so sure, then why didn't you just take this to the Minister? Surely, that would've been enough to get me in the same place I am now."

Hans grunted humorously. "That would've been too easy. Planning your demise was much more fun."

Thomas grit his teeth. "I'm glad you had a good time," he growled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of waiting to do until they execute me later," he chided turning toward his cot.

"Hey, now, I'm not finished," Hans said.

Thomas stopped and turned back. "What?"

Hans gestured for him to come closer. Feeling that he wouldn't go away until he did, Thomas obeyed.

"I know what I did was wrong," Hans started, "but I still see you as a friend. You're right, we've been through a lot together. Maybe one day we can look back and forget about this."

Thomas arched an eyebrow. "You mean in the afterlife?" he asked sarcastically.

Hans grinned and looked from side to side to ensure no one was watching. Then he pulled a pin from the lining of his jacket and handed it to him through the bars.

"In about one minute, the guards are about to become very distracted. Seize the moment and I'll take it from there," he said quietly.

Thomas looked at the pin as if it were a dead rat. "Why should I trust you?"

Hans laughed a little. "You'll just have to take my word for it."

"Your words mean _nothing_ to me," Thomas growled. "Give me one good reason I should do anything you say after you framed me for murder?"

Hans smiled lopsidedly. "That's a chance you've got to be willing to take. But you'd better take it now, because it's the last one you've got."

Thomas hesitantly took the pin and studied it. "I don't get it. First, we're friends. Then you frame me. Now you're helping me. Why?"

Hans shrugged indifferently. "Good question."

Thomas glared at him.

"See you on the flip side, Thomas," Hans said turning on his heel and leaving him.

Thomas studied the pin for a moment. Then he sat down on his cot. There was a part of himself actually considering going through with whatever escape plan Hans had come up with. He was an innocent man in prison, and it was Hans' fault, so he should be the one to pull him out of it. But he also could be betraying him yet again. The next thing he knew, the alarms were blazing and the guards raced past his cell. It was now or never. He was a dead man either way, so why not?

He ensured there were guards around and picked the lock to his cell. Then he raced down the corridor to face whatever lie ahead.


	8. Prompt 8: Water 02-27-15

_Water 02.27.15_

"Here we are, Private!" Uncle Nigel announced as he and Private arrived at the shoreline of Antarctica.

"Oh, what are we doing here?" Private asked looking at his reflection in the water.

"You've just grown in your first set of waterproof feathers, my boy! It's time I taught you how to swim," Nigel said with a smile.

Private backed away from the water and wrapped his flippers around himself. "Are you sure I'm ready?"

"Aye! Of course I'm sure," Nigel said kneeling next to him and putting a flipper on his shoulders. "This is an important milestone, my boy. You're growing up so fast." He smiled with pride.

Private shifted nervously on his feet. "Okay. Promise you won't let me go?" he asked sheepishly.

Nigel smiled. "I promise. Come now, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said walking to the water's edge and diving in. He emerged a second later and held his flippers out to Private. "Hop in, Private! I've got you!"

Private skeptically stepped forward. "You'll catch me?" he asked weakly.

Nigel nodded. "I won't let you drown! Jump!"

Private took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he jumped into the water into his Uncle's embrace. He shivered from the cold pinching his feet.

"It's cold!" Private cried clinging to him.

Nigel chuckled. "Private, it's no colder than the snow you just came from. You'll get used to it. Now, take a deep breath and follow Uncle, okay?" he said pulling him further from the shoreline. Then he pulled him under.

Private closed his eyes and gripped his Uncle's feather's in fear. Nigel pulled his flippers away and tipped his chin. Private hesitantly opened his eyes to see Nigel smiling down at him. He held one of his flippers and slowly swam through the water. Private tried to mimic his movements. Nigel smiled encouragingly and urged him forward.

After a couple minutes, Private started kicking his feet a little harder and flapped his flippers as if trying to fly through the water. He smiled up at Nigel as he started getting the hang of it. Nigel subtlely slowed down so Private would swim faster than him and he let go. Private glided forward through the water until he realized Nigel wasn't next to him anymore. He stopped and looked back. Uncle Nigel threw his flippers up in triumph.

Private smiled back. He swam! That wasn't so hard after all. He frowned when Uncle Nigel frantically started swimming toward him, gesturing for him to come to him in a frenzy. Private turned around and flailed his flippers in a panic as a leopard seal closed in on them, but that only slowed him down.

Nigel tried to call out to him under the water, but only bubbles spewed from his beak. He thought he'd brought Private to a more safe area of the ocean. Finally, he reached Private and scooped him into his flippers, gliding back in the direction whence he came with the leopard seal right at his feet. He made it to the shore and threw Private onto the ice just as the leopard seal grabbed his feet in its teeth and pulled him back under.

"Uncle Nigel!" Private cried coming to the water's edge. He couldn't see them through the deep blue water.

The leopard seal thrashed in the water and Nigel broke free from its jaws. The beast prepared to advance, but Nigel was ready. It propelled forward and Nigel glided to the side to use the massive creature's weight against him as it moved past, unable to stop.

The leopard seal turned around and Nigel braced himself. With Private topside, he wouldn't have to worry about him seeing what took place here and thus owing him an explanation. The leopard seal thrust forward and Nigel ducked under him and pushed upward with all his strength, sending the beast into a loose block of ice that broke off and rapidly sunk down, taking the leopard seal with it.

Nigel watched for a moment to ensure the beast wouldn't break free. When it didn't, he nodded in satisfaction as if to say, _That's what you get for threatening my nephew._ He swam to the surface, where Private was sitting on the ice, crying into his flippers.

"Private?" he called softly as he pulled himself from the water.

Private looked up in shock. "Uncle Nigel!" he cried getting to his feet and running to him. He threw his flippers around his belly. "I thought you were gone forever! I didn't know what to do! I was so scared!"

Nigel patted his back. "Everything is fine, Private. No one can hurt you now," he assured him in a soothing tone.

Private sniffed and buried his face into his Uncle's feathers. "How did you get away?" he said in a muffled voice.

"Don't you fret about that, Private," Nigel replied. He knelt down and made Private look him in the eye. "I am so sorry that happened. I thought we were safe here, and I was wrong. Maybe we'll wait a little longer before swimming again, just until I find somewhere safer."

Private looked down. "Oh, okay then," he said softly, trying to hide his disappointment.

Nigel furrowed his brow. "What's the matter, my boy?"

Private shrugged awkwardly. "Well, it's just that—I actually kind of _liked_ swimming with you. I was hoping that we could—do it again soon," he admitted.

Nigel's expression softened and he nodded apologetically. "You're such a brave boy. Things have been difficult since your parents passed. And here I am not even around most of the time. I'm sorry, Private. How about we go again tomorrow, hm?" he said with a smile.

Private smiled back and nodded excitedly. "Okay! I'll do even better than today!"

Nigel chuckled. "That you will." He hugged his nephew and looked back at the ocean over his shoulder. "I'll teach you everything you need to know."


	9. Prompt 9: Seeking Solace 03-08-15

_Seeking Solace 03.08.15_

**Note:** This chapter contains mild Skilene.

— § —

"Marlene?" Skipper called from behind Marlene.

Marlene sat in the park, staring at her reflection in the pond. She looked in Skipper's direction, but couldn't meet his eye. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Skipper frowned. "Someone told me they saw you leave the zoo. I was worried. What's wrong?" he asked sitting next to her.

Marlene glanced at him, afraid to answer. "It's nothing. I just came out here to think."

Skipper studied her. "Marlene, I know you. Something is troubling you. You know you can trust me, right?" he asked gently.

Marlene looked down. "Yes, I know. That's not—what I'm worried about," she said hesitantly.

Skipper knit his brows. "Marlene, you can tell me anything."

She looked at him. Then she bit her lip and away. "Well . . . you know how you just came back from that solo mission?"

Skipper nodded slowly. "Yes, why?" he asked.

"When you returned, I—accidentally heard you listening to your logs while you were filing the mission," she said quietly, looking at the grass. She felt him remove his flipper from her shoulder, but he didn't respond. She hesitantly turned to him. "Are you mad?" she asked sheepishly.

Skipper disregarded the question. "How much did you hear?" he asked looking out across the water.

Marlene watched him carefully. "Enough. Like about how you would've died if you'd have been a second later. I didn't hear how. It—frightened me."

Skipper looked at her regretfully. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Marlene raised her brow. "That's it?" she asked irritably. "I just told you I know I nearly lost you, and all you have to say is '_I'm sorry'_?"

Skipper shook his head. "And you also just told me that you heard intel on a _classified_ solo mission. What do you want me to say? Sorry you were snooping around?"

Marlene got to her feet. "Who's snooping? It was an accident!"

Skipper stood up with her. "Look, I'm sorry you heard that, but I'm not sorry that I did what I had to to complete my mission. I don't know what else to say."

Marlene scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You can be really insensitive sometimes."

Skipper spread his flippers. "Insensitive? There aren't many ways I can butter up 'I almost died'! If that bothers you, you should listen to some of my other logs! I've been in a hell of a lot worse situations than that."

Marlene turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. "Don't say that," she said, tears stinging her eyes.

"So you get mad when I say things are classified, but then you get even more upset when you hear the truth. I'm not seeing a winning side here," Skipper said folding his flippers over his chest. "Marlene, you know what I do. I put myself in life-threatening situations all the time to _protect_ people like you. You should be grateful."

Marlene turned back to him. "It's hard to be _grateful_ when I'm sitting around praying you won't come home in a body bag," she said in a shaky voice.

Skipper sighed and looked away. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to stop doing my duty," he said.

"I'm not trying to ask you to stop doing your duty, Skipper," Marlene choked. "I'm asking you not to leave me."

Skipper watched as a tear trailed down her cheek. He exhaled. "Marlene," he said softly, "I could tell you that I never would, but that would be a lie. I can't deny that one day, the mission I go on will be my last. I wish I could bring you that kind of comfort, but I can't promise that I'll always come back in one piece. I _can_ promise that I'll keep you safe until I don't."

Marlene shook her head and turned away. Skipper stepped behind her and put a flipper on her shoulder and she turned back and smacked it away, but Skipper stepped forward and tried to wrap his flippers around her to comfort her. She resisted at first, but finally relaxed into Skipper's embrace. He gently stroked her back.

"Marlene, you never had this much of a problem with it before. What's so different about now?" he asked over her shoulder.

Marlene gripped his feathers and buried her face into his chest. "Because hearing the words made it more real. I don't want to lose you."

Skipper looked down at her. "I never knew you cared so much," he said quietly.

"Of course I care, you clueless idiot," Marlene said in a muffled voice.

Skipper smiled slightly. Then he tilted Marlene's chin. "I'll always protect you, Marlene," he said. "Whether you hate me for it or not doesn't matter at this point. I just care that you're safe."

Marlene grunted and pushed him away, turning her back on him. "Dang it, Skipper! Why do you have to be so selfless?"

"I prefer 'heroic,' but selfless works too," Skipper said. Marlene rolled her eyes with a frustrated sigh. "What? I'm kidding!" he protested with a laugh. Marlene didn't respond and Skipper sighed as he wrapped his flippers around her from behind. "It's your fault, you know" he said.

"What?" Marlene asked defensively.

Skipper smiled. "You're one of the few that give me a _reason_ to fight."

Marlene arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

Skipper looked down and fiddled with Marlene's paws, which she'd rested over his flippers without realizing it. "You remind me that there is good in the world if you look in the right places. That's what I fight for. If no one fought off the evil, those like you would just . . . disappear."

Marlene looked down for a moment, and then looked at Skipper. Then she turned into his embrace and kissed him on the cheek. "The world needs more people like you."

Skipper shook his head. "No, Marlene. The world needs more people like _you_."


End file.
